


A Different Hostage Crisis

by Ray_Writes



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s01e17 The Huntress Returns, F/M, Identity Reveal, Merlance Breakup, Pre-Relationship Lauriver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 08:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24847141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ray_Writes/pseuds/Ray_Writes
Summary: Helena chooses one of Oliver's other loved ones to use as leverage, leading to a number of different results.
Relationships: Helena Bertinelli & Laurel Lance, Helena Bertinelli & Oliver Queen, Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen
Comments: 25
Kudos: 49





	A Different Hostage Crisis

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this idea was another little random thought I had about how things could’ve gone differently on the show, this time diverging from the episode “The Huntress Returns”. This redo does also combine some scenes/dialogue from “Salvation”, so if you recognize it, it is from one of those two episodes and not mine. Something important to note is that I am remaining canon with season 1 in having Oliver believe Sara died in the first sinking, and she was not involved in the season 2 flashbacks. If people still want to imagine her alive out there, they can feel free to pretend Nyssa just picked her up a year early instead of Ivo.  
> Many thanks to Okoriwadsworth for his excellent beta-reading skills and suggestions, and I hope you all enjoy.

It was something of a relief when she was able to leave the drama her mother had brought back into their lives for the Verdant’s opening night. Laurel waded through the crowds as she spotted Tommy over the heads of some clubbers. “Oh! There you are.” He smiled vaguely in her direction. “This place is amazing. I'm so proud of you and Ollie.” 

“Thanks,” her boyfriend replied, a bit of strain in the word. 

Laurel tilted her head, scrutinizing him. “Is everything ok?” 

“I'm great.” 

Something told her he wasn’t going to give her a real answer unless she in part called his bluff. “Well, breakfast was a disaster.” 

“Breakfast?” He echoed, making it clear he had completely forgotten. 

“With my parents?” Laurel prompted. 

Tommy’s eyes squeezed shut. “Right. That was this morning. Uh... Sorry.” 

“Are you sure everything's ok? Because you seem completely off.” She didn’t think it had to do with the attack on his father. Malcolm had been cleared to leave the hospital and was supposed to be making a full recovery. So why did he seem so distant all of a sudden?

“I'm fine. I promise,” he said again.

“Tommy!” Thea wedged her way through a couple of people to Tommy’s other side. “Tommy. Did you call Roy yet?”

“I left him a message. He starts tomorrow. Which reminds me, I have to go check in with the office. Excuse me.”

Thea slipped away as well, back towards her family, leaving Laurel alone. She sighed. It wasn’t like now was the best time, but she had wanted to talk to Tommy about everything going on with her parents. She really could have used his support at breakfast, and he usually was pushing for her to involve him in her life. She had thought this could be a first step, so why was he picking now to bail?

A hand brushed down her arm, and Laurel whirled around to see a smiling Helena Bertinelli. “Laurel, hey. Remember me?”

Helena’s grip on her arm turned vice-like, and Laurel gasped. “What do you want?”

“Just to have a chat. Come on.” The Huntress tugged her back behind the bar and past some of the workers, most of whom didn’t give her a second glance. She was the manager’s girlfriend after all, and Helena was doing a good job making it look like they were just walking arm in arm. “Don’t worry. Oliver will join us soon.”

“Oliver?” Laurel watched Helena input a code into a doorway against the back wall, surprised she even knew it. Wouldn’t he have changed the code to something his ex-girlfriend didn’t know? And what did she have to do with any conversation Helena was going to have with Oliver?

Helena was dangerous, whether Laurel fit her usual target profile or not. She hadn’t wanted to risk anything out in the open considering she didn’t know if Helena was armed or not and could have hurt a bystander. But the likelihood that there was anyone in what had to be the storage area was slim, so she could take the chance and then disappear into the crowd to call the authorities or find security. And find Ollie. If Helena was taking a hostage to force him to talk to her, Laurel didn’t imagine it was for anything good. She needed to warn him.

As soon as the door swung open, Laurel used Helena’s distraction to shove them both forwards against a railing. She twisted their arms around so that Helena’s was against her back, the other woman hissing as Laurel moved to back up and caught sight of a number of green arrows lined up on the tables down below.

“ _What_?”

Those were the Hood’s. The Hood’s things were here, were in _Oliver’s_ club. Oliver, who Helena had said was going to be joining them soon… because he was the Hood to her Huntress—

Her moment of distraction cost her this time, for Helena lunged forward and squeezed her hands around Laurel’s throat. “I should really make you regret that. _Come on._ ”

Laurel was half-dragged and half-thrown down the steps, her hair clip coming loose and half of it falling down from the bun she had worn. Her heel broke on the last stair as she tried to dig in, and Laurel swung out at Helena’s chest and face and hair, anything she could reach.

“Stop- fighting- me!” Helena’s nails scratched her cheek, and Laurel’s hands curled into fists at the sting.

“Thanks, but I’m not interested in dying!” She slammed Helena back into the table behind them but felt the metal of an arrowhead placed under her neck.

A door slammed somewhere above them and footsteps thundered down the stairs.

“Helena, _stop_!”

She’d never heard Oliver sound like that, and she knew the evidence before her had been correct. One hand shoved Helena’s arm holding the arrow away from Laurel while the other drew her back behind Oliver. She could barely see Helena now around his broad shoulders.

“I told you to stay away!”

“I had to get you to listen to me!”

“By trying to kill a person I care about?”

As much as Laurel wanted a minute to just _sit_ with everything she had just learned these last few harried minutes, there looked to be a very real chance one of them was going to kill the other if she didn’t intervene. 

Laurel marched around to the side so she could properly see them. “Would either of you like to explain just what this is about _without_ violence, please?”

She was gratified to see that her voice was sharp enough to give the two pause. Helena and Oliver regarded each other warily as Oliver backed up a step to give Helena a bit more space, and Helena moved a step away from the table while straightening out her dress. Oliver drifted once again towards Laurel, positioning himself to be ready to move in front of her at a moment’s notice.

“This isn’t about anything because Helena is leaving. Now.”

“You really think I’m going to give up that easily?” Helena shook her head. “I know the Marshals will be transporting my father soon, I just need to know when and where so I can take the transport. That’s all I’m asking for!”

“You call this asking?”

“Okay, so this is about Frank Bertinelli?” Laurel asked, one hand massaging her temples. “And the Marshals, so he’s being taken into Witness Protection?”

“He’s agreed to testify against other members of the family on the East Coast,” Oliver told her, looking over his shoulder at her but not quite meeting her eyes with his. What she could see of his gaze looked uncomfortable, troubled. His hands twitched at his sides.

“He’s getting away with everything!” Helena declared, sounding tortured. “And he’ll never give them enough to put the ones who matter away. He’ll just slip away to his new life and rebuild it all from scratch.”

“It could happen,” Laurel acknowledged. Oliver looked at her sharply. “A member of the Falcone family turned state’s evidence in the eighties and later used his new identity to start a real estate business that’s been accused of scamming tens of millions from mall owners around the country.”

“You see?” Helena cried out, one arm flinging towards Laurel.

“We can’t control what Frank Bertinelli does or doesn’t do once he’s in Witness Protection,” Oliver said.

“But we can stop him from going. Once he’s in it, he’ll disappear, and I am _not_ letting that happen.”

“If you kill him, then none of the East Coast family goes away, no matter how big or small. He has evidence,” Laurel explained.

“ _I_ had evidence!” Helena pressed a hand to her heart. “Everything he’s planning to turn over, I spent years gathering. It got Michael killed, but in his hands it’s going to be a ticket to freedom.”

The door to the club upstairs opened again, this time admitting Mr. Diggle, who looked far less surprised than she had to see this place though his eyes widened when they landed on first Helena and then her. “What’s going on?” He asked, descending the stairs with one hand laid over his sidearm.

“A conversation,” Oliver answered in clipped tones. “One that’s over.”

Helena glared at him, her eyes suspiciously bright, before she turned and headed towards a second door Laurel could only assume let out in the back or side of the building. Her gut twisted guiltily when Helena cast one last look her way and then exited with a slam of the door.

Oliver approached her but stopped just shy of touching her. “Were you hurt?”

“Not seriously,” she answered, taking a chance to finally rub at her throat where Helena had gripped it momentarily.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Where? Oh,” she said, when he reached out and cupped her cheek. His hands were calloused in a way they hadn’t been when they were younger. It made her think of all the pain he had had to work and fight through just to get home, the fight he was still taking on out there in the streets. He really was the vigilante she and so many others in the city were pinning their hopes on.

“We have a first aid kit,” he said, then motioned with his head for her to follow him over to a table. He patted the surface, so Laurel hopped up, taking the opportunity to unfasten her mismatched heels.

“So are we just skimming over the whole ‘she knows’ thing or did I miss the conversation?” Diggle asked.

Oliver stilled and looked at her. Laurel looked back.

“I guess that’s now?”

\---

Oliver felt uneasy. Whether that was the unspent adrenaline leaving his system in the wake of Helena’s departure or the sensation of truly being _seen_ by Laurel for everything he really was, he didn’t know.

“I guess,” he finally managed to say in answer to her question. Oliver set the first aid kit down beside her and started sorting through it for a disinfectant wipe. “So.”

“So.”

“You know,” he pointed out unnecessarily.

“Yes,” Laurel agreed. “Well, I guessed upon finding a whole basement of green arrows down here. The whole approach you took with Helena kind of settled any lingering doubt.”

Oliver’s eyes closed. His approach with Helena had been aggressive, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself when he had seen her and Laurel locked in what could have easily become a deadly brawl. Helena had been holding one of _his own arrows_ to Laurel’s throat. He would have never forgiven himself if it had been used to harm her. But could Laurel forgive him now, or did she see the same out-of-control monster that had nearly beat a man to death in Iron Heights?

“Ollie, can you please actually look at me?”

He did, and as ever it threatened to steal his breath. Hair tousled and spilling down to one side, cheek scratched with blood trails drying, it didn’t change that she was the most beautiful girl in the whole world. His world which was threatening to swiftly crash down in the wake of his two best friends learning the truth one after the other.

Yet Laurel’s eyes remained kind as she asked, “What are you thinking about?”

“You don’t know?”

Laurel slowly shook her head. “I used to know you better than anyone, but it’s… we’ve both changed. You more than me, maybe, but why don’t you help me learn this part? You’re the Hood.”

He ripped open the package on a disinfectant wipe. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

He hesitated a moment before beginning to wipe at her cheek. Aside from a slight wince at the initial sting of the wipe, Laurel’s eyes never left his. “You don’t believe what I told you in your apartment?”

“I do, but it was general. On purpose, since you didn’t want me knowing who you were. But what made _you_ decide to do all this? What happened while you were away to make you take it on?”

She was asking for an explanation, the explanation he had offered Tommy and been rejected. Oliver swallowed heavily, taking his hand away from her cheek and instead reaching for the book Diggle was already holding out. His friend and partner was watching quietly and curiously, as though something was happening in front of him he hadn’t expected and was trying to puzzle out.

“When the _Gambit_ went down, my dad wasn’t lost right away. I wasn’t completely truthful with my testimony,” Oliver admitted. “On the life raft, he gave me this as proof that he had done things and been aware of things done by others that had hurt our city. He asked me to make it right. I didn’t know how or if I would be able to do that at first, but as the years went on, I resolved to use the skills I learned to survive to bring an older kind of justice to the people on this list who had escaped from the law.”

Laurel nodded. “That’s why you noticed Adam Hunt’s name on my caseboard that first day, wasn’t it? Why you asked for my help with Peter Declan.”

“Yes.”

“Then why not just ask me as yourself? Why lie when I asked you if you were the Hood?”

“Laurel, I’m… you said it yourself. I’m a remorseless killer.”

She shook her head, what was left of the bun she had worn her hair in falling down. “If you’re talking about what I said outside the prison, you already know I realized that wasn’t true. But I was scared. This otherwise stranger almost killed a man because of me. If I’d know he _wasn’t_ a stranger, that he was someone who had known me and cared about me for years, I would have understood.” She leaned forward a little, refusing to let him back away. “I do understand.”

Oliver cleared his throat and reached for a strip of gauze and some medical tape. “Thank you,” he murmured as he fitted it over the scratches.

“What are you going to do about Helena?”

“I don’t know. She knows who I am, so I can’t—” Oliver stopped and tried again. “If I turn her in, then it’s over for me.”

“Anyone else, and you’d have already put an end to it, Oliver,” Digg pointed out.

He sighed. “Helena is complicated. I helped make her what she is, and for me to just… she has a reason to be angry at her father, John. The same reason you have to be angry at Floyd Lawton.”

“But would I attack the people closest to you to make you do what I want?”

“Maybe you don’t do what Helena wants,” Laurel put in. “Maybe you do something else.”

“Like what?”

The upstairs door opened again, and he tensed at the familiar voice that sounded down. “Hey, Oliver, I get the club is really just a front for you, but it’d be nice if people actually saw — Laurel!”

Laurel grimaced as Tommy rushed down and to her side.

“What happened?” Tommy touched the gauze before whirling around to glare at Oliver. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Laurel said before he even had the chance to defend himself. “Why would you think he had?”

“There was an incident with someone else,” Oliver explained quietly, hurt by the accusation that still lingered in Tommy’s eyes. The truth was, if it weren’t for him Helena would’ve never had a reason to target Laurel.

“But Oliver helped resolve it, and it is fine,” Laurel stressed.

Tommy turned back to her. “How long have you known about him?”

“About him being the Hood? I think thirty minutes. How long have you known?”

“Since the night my dad was attacked.” Tommy shifted restlessly, then said, “Look, let’s just go home, alright? I think you’ve had enough excitement.” He took hold of Laurel’s hand and tried to pull her off the table, though Laurel flinched when her toes brushed the cold floor.

“Actually, I was trying to help with something.”

“Laurel, no.” Tommy looked between her and Oliver, denial turning to dismay. “You can’t. We talked about this, you said you weren’t going to keep doing this.”

“I said I wasn’t going to keep lying to you about working with the Hood, and I’m not. We’re all on the same page now. This is a good thing.” Laurel looked at each of them, her smile starting to fade. “Isn’t it?”

“Tommy’s not working with me,” Oliver told her.

“Because he’s a killer.”

“What?”

“He is, Laurel! And I know why you refuse to see that. I should’ve realized it was over the minute I found out who he was!” Tommy’s lips pulled back into something more angry and helpless than a smile. “It’s always been you two, just like I said at that dinner with that crazy Bertinelli girl.”

Oliver winced, though Tommy didn’t notice because he had turned away for the stairs.

“Tommy, wait!” Laurel looked ready to leap off the table, and Oliver offered a hand. He would offer his feet for her to stand on if she wanted, but instead Laurel looked at him, then up at Tommy, her lip trembling.

Before Tommy reached the top of the steps, the door opened, and Felicity nearly crashed into him. “Hi, sorry! Oh, uh, bye.” She watched Tommy exit, then looked down at all of them. “Is something going on?”

“Now’s maybe not the best time, Felicity,” John said, gentler than Oliver could’ve hoped to be.

“It feels like a lot of people know that door code,” Laurel remarked lightly, but it didn’t fully disguise the catch in her voice.

He looked at her in dismay. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s really not… I should’ve known it was going to end this way based on how he reacted to me working with the Hood last month.” Laurel pushed her hand through her hair, which he knew was a way to hide her wiping her eyes with her other hand. “There’s just a lot going on right now, so a breakup on top of it—”

“Do you need someone to take you home?” He asked.

“No,” Laurel said quickly. “Home’s actually the last place I really feel like being. I’d much rather focus on this whole Italian mafia family drama than my own.”

“Italian mafia drama?” Felicity asked. She risked coming down a few more steps. “Sorry, you must be Laurel, right? Gorgeous Laurel.”

“I don’t know about that,” Laurel replied, tracing the gauze on her face with her fingertips, though her eyes darted in Oliver’s direction. “Did Mr. Diggle call you Felicity?”

“He did. Did something happen to your shoes? I keep a pair of flats in my car,” Felicity said, pointing backwards over her shoulder. She lifted one foot beside Laurel’s bare one. “I don’t know if we’re the same size, but it’s better than nothing, right?”

“Definitely, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Felicity scurried back the way she came.

Seeing that Laurel had completely regained control of her composure, Oliver felt safe to venture, “You were saying something before Tommy came in, about doing something different than what Helena wanted to appease her.”

“Right, yeah. The, uh, the evidence that Helena said her father took from her, that he’s planning to use to get himself into WITSEC. Is there a way you could get a hold of it?”

“If I knew where he was. He’s probably keeping it close to his person. Why do you want it?”

“So you can turn it over to the FBI. Then he has to be able to prove he’s still useful to them. Plus, there’s the threat to his life that Helena presents. Witness Protection only takes on people they feel certain they can protect.”

“If a participant in the program died, it would affect the whole program’s reputation,” John agreed. “Make it less likely for others to sign up in the future.”

“Between the danger Helena presents and her evidence being taken from Bertinelli and turned over to the FBI in full with no strings attached, they’ll have to decide he isn’t worth enrolling. He’ll remain behind bars.”

“And Helena gets what she wants even if it’s not the way she wants it,” Oliver concluded. He turned around as Felicity re-entered the Foundry with a pair of flats in hand. “Felicity, how do you feel about hacking the FBI?”

“Wait, really? Yes! I’ve been _waiting_ for this moment!” She exclaimed, pumping a fist before looking around self-consciously. “I mean, um, I can do that if it’s necessary.”

Oliver smirked. “Good.” He trailed one hand down Laurel’s arm, hoping it was a comforting gesture, before he stepped away to get his suit out in anticipation of learning Frank Bertinelli’s current location.

Once he had ended the blood feud between Helena and her father, he could fix the feud between himself and Tommy so that Laurel wouldn’t suffer for it. He had to believe that.

\---

Helena had remained close by, watching the back entrance of the Verdant for any movement from Oliver’s team. She knew he’d probably sooner kill her than look at her for going after his precious Laurel, but Helena wasn’t worried. She’d trained herself for the possibility over receiving an arrow to the heart.

It wasn’t like she’d been planning to hurt the other woman all that much. How was she supposed to have known Laurel had some defense training under her belt and would be crazy enough to try it on a known killer? She should have gone with someone weaker like Merlyn.

When at last Oliver emerged, he didn’t even go to his bike before looking up and stating. “You might as well come out now, Helena.”

She carefully emerged, crossbow drawn. “I still need your help.”

“And you’re getting it.”

Helena blinked, hardly daring to believe it. “Had a change of heart about letting my father live?”

“No, but we have a way to make sure he keeps spending that life behind bars. Stay here.” He took one step towards his bike, and Helena shadowed it.

“No, I’m coming with you. I need to be there.”

“I can’t trust you not to lose control,” he argued. “What you did in there—”

“She fought me!”

“She’s the only reason I’m doing this!” His glare alone was enough to make her stop in her tracks. Laurel had asked Oliver to do something for her? After Helena had taken her hostage? It didn’t make sense.”

“I will get the evidence your father’s people took from the laptop you gave Michael and turn it over to the FBI. It should make them think twice about what worth he is to them in Witness Protection.” Oliver turned and swung a leg over his bike.

“Wait.”

He didn’t start the engine.

“You should have backup if you’re going to an FBI safehouse. And I know where he’ll be keeping it.”

“You’ll just go after your father.”

“No, I won’t. It’d be suicide. You’re helping me when you have no reason to. I can listen.” Whether their relationship had ended on bad terms or not, Helena wasn’t interested in setting him up to die, either. And if Laurel had really been the one who convinced him, Helena would make sure he got back home to her.

Oliver did not deny her again, so she retrieved her own bike, following after him as he sped out of the alley and onto the streets. They drove out of the city limits and towards the more isolated homes and mansions. Of course her father was restored to his usual luxury. Helena’s grip tightened on the handles, but she focused her breathing and kept following Oliver. She was going to steal the evidence right out from under Frank Bettinelli like his top enforcer had done to her.

Oliver pulled off by some woods and parked, Helena doing so beside him. “There’s twenty guards circling the perimeter. If one spots us, they’ll all know we’re here. We go on _my_ signal.”

Helena nodded.

Oliver listened to his earpiece for a time. Diggle or someone must have managed to get into the FBI’s system or found the location via satellite. Helena just watched the distant flashlight beams.

“Now,” Oliver said softly, stealing across the lawn. Helena followed just behind and pressed herself against the wall when they reached the back of the house. She kept a lookout as Oliver worked with some kind of tools at the lock, which popped open.

The house was mostly dark. It was late, after all. Her father was probably asleep and helpless…

Helena forced those thoughts down and took the lead. “He always kept anything of importance in close reach of where he held court. And he’s a creature of habit.”

She snuck towards the kitchenette area, hands searching around the unfamiliar space in the dark. At last she closed her hands around the neck of a bottle jutting from the wine rack.

“The one at the house had a false bottom,” she explained.

“I doubt he had time to commission one for here,” Oliver pointed out.

“No, but he’ll have done something similar. I just have to figure out—” Helena paused. She had been removing each bottle one by one in order to more easily search the rack, but the latest one in her hand was empty. She shook it, and something rattled around in the bottom.

“I need some light.”

“How much?” But Oliver took out a small flashlight, shining it on the bottle. The outline of a flash drive was clear behind the glass.

“Got you,” she murmured with a growing smirk.

The sound of a gun cocking broke the moment. “It figures the FBI’s useless,” her father said. “I told them they should have been expecting the family reunion.”

Helena slowly stood to her full height, turning with the bottle in her hand. “Hi, dad.”

“What do you think you’re doing with that?”

“It’s mine, isn’t it?”

 _“Unlike your gun,”_ Oliver added, his voice distorted the way he did when speaking directly to others as the Hood. _“Pretty sure that’s against the terms of your deal, Bertinelli.”_

“Yeah? Well when I bag the Hood and the Huntress, I think I’ll be making the terms of the next deal. I’ll be a hero,” her father declared.

Oliver threw a flechette, making his shot go wide. The bottle shattered in her hand, glass stinging her face.

“No!” Helena dove, searching through the shards with one hand. She aimed her crossbow with the other and snarled as she caught her father in the shoulder with a bolt. He collapsed with a pitiful wail.

_“We need to leave now!”_

“Not without the flash drive!” Helena argued. “I didn’t kill him, now help me find it!”

Shouts were sounding louder and closer by the minute, yet Helena barely noticed as her fingers at last closed around the little thing hiding under the counter. She stood and was immediately knocked over by Oliver to avoid a spray of bullets.

“FBI! Surrender with your hands up!”

“Shouldn’t that have gone the other way around?” She couldn’t resist calling back. 

Oliver didn’t appear to appreciate the joke. He was too busy nocking an arrow and firing. It wedged into the wall behind the agents. Before Helena could berate him for missing, a gas began to leak from the end.

 _“Let’s go.”_ He pulled her up by the hand, vaulting the counter at the other end of the kitchen. Helena followed, not knowing or caring what he just subjected the agents to. As far as she was concerned they deserved it for protecting scum like her father.

There were still a few agents waiting in the back for them. Helena followed Oliver’s lead and fired her bolts into their weapons, knocking them out of their hands. She kicked one man into his partner to send them both down to the ground for good measure, hearing Oliver engage two more agents behind her.

He grabbed one in what looked like a sleeper hold but refrained from putting the necessary pressure on him. _“Frank Bertinelli received a crossbow bolt to the shoulder. His survival’s more important to your program than our capture.”_ Oliver threw the man down to the ground, then sprinted for the trees with her.

Helena’s heart pumped wildly in her chest as they sped back towards the Glades, a grin that probably looked terrifying on her face stretching from ear to ear. She had taken her father’s bargaining chip from him and injured him in the process. If he died from inattention, she’d consider it a job well done. If not… he would have to live with knowing she had succeeded in taking everything from him the way he once had from her.

Helena stopped her bike outside the Verdant once more, Oliver doing so as well. He stepped off his and looked at her. “The flash drive?”

Helena retrieved it from her coat. “You’ll get it to the authorities?”

“I have something of a contact there,” Oliver replied evasively. “But it’ll get done. You should leave town before the police catch up to your trail.”

“I’m not going far until I know for certain this worked,” Helena let him know. “But thank you. And… thank Laurel for me, too.”

Oliver nodded, heading back into his base.

Helena let out a breath, her gaze turning up to the sky. Had she done enough? Would Michael rest easier knowing she would finally be exposing her family’s operations the way they had planned? What did she even do with the rest of her life?

It was something she had little choice but to face and find out.

\---

Quentin wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to come out here. Maybe it was guilt, or shame. If he’d actually been willing to listen to the Hood’s warning about the hit on Malcolm Merlyn, maybe they would have been in a better position to apprehend everyone in the Triad and the guy who had taken the shot. So he figured he could give him this one.

But he did not appreciate being made to wait. “What the hell does he have going on, anyway?” Quentin muttered to himself. “Not like he has to deal with the paperwork his messes stir up.”

_“Sorry to keep you waiting, Detective.”_

Quentin jumped and spun around, one hand going to his gun. But the Hood stood there, unarmed. “What’s this about?”

_“The Huntress.”_

Quentin groaned. “She’s in the city.”

_“Not for much longer. I persuaded her to settle for keeping her father out of Witness Protection and behind bars.”_

“And how exactly are you going to arrange that, huh? The Marshal Service has made the deal.”

 _“The information Bertinelli has been using to make himself useful to them was all collected by his daughter years ago. It’s on this flash drive.”_ Slowly, the Hood reached into his pocket and retrieved a small drive in a plastic bag. Quentin briefly considered and then dismissed the idea that there were going to be any usable prints on it. _“I took the liberty of retrieving it from him with Huntress, and I’m entrusting it to you.”_

“Why? What difference does it make who the information comes from?”

_“Bertinelli has been giving the FBI this information piece by piece to extend his worth. Now they’ll have everything they need without having to go to him. If they continue housing him, Helena will hunt him to the ends of the Earth, putting the whole Witness Protection program at risk. I think they’ll agree to return Bertinelli to jail over taking that risk if he’s no longer useful to them. Would you agree?”_

He had to hand it to the vigilante, it was a sound argument. “You get all that checked out by a lawyer or something?”

 _“Or something.”_ Right, like he was ever going to get anything out of this guy.

Quentin picked up the bag. “I’ll have to have our CSUs examine this, but it’ll get to the Marshals.”

_“Thank you, Detective. The Huntress shouldn’t be a problem anymore.”_

“Well, she wouldn’t be a problem in the first place if you hadn’t gotten involved,” he pointed out, but the Hood was already rising into the air with one of his grapple arrows. Quentin shook his head. Why did he even try to reason with these people?

He brought the flash drive to Kelton and then headed home for some rest before he had to get ready to prepare to reason with some more people the next day. Laurel had sent him a text a couple of hours ago to plead with him to try another meetup with Dinah, so they were doing breakfast at Laurel’s this time.

When Quentin arrived, he was surprised to once again find only Laurel and Dinah present. “Where’s that lousy boyfriend of yours?” He asked as Laurel kissed his cheek in greeting.

There was a knock at the door. “I’m gonna get that,” his daughter said in lieu of answering the question, leaving the kitchen.

“I think they ended things last night,” Dinah said in a low voice. “Tommy showed up here alone and packed all his things. He didn’t even notice me at first, he was so upset.”

Quentin raised both eyebrows. Laurel and Merlyn had called things off?

Before he could get his hopes up too high, he received a shock that immediately soured his mood as Laurel returned with a different man in tow. “What the hell is he doing here?”

“He’s here because I asked him to come, so dad, don’t start,” Laurel warned, briefly touching Oliver Queen’s arm. Queen looked uncomfortable if resolute, and he reached out to shake Dinah’s hand.

“Mrs. Lance.”

“Oliver. Well, it’s— I was happy for your family to hear about your return. Actually, it got me thinking about our Sara.”

“Laurel told me,” Oliver said.

“Oliver’s agreed to tell you both about the night the _Gambit_ went down,” Laurel explained quietly. “He thinks it should give you closure.”

Quentin didn’t really know what to say. He slowly took the empty seat by the table where Dinah already sat.

“The storm was… we didn’t really notice it at first. Sara mentioned the thunder once, but neither of us realized what was going to happen,” Queen said, his voice low and remorseful. His eyes were fixed on the floor. “The ship just— it broke. The floor shot straight up and Sara, she- she fell straight down into the darkness. I tried to reach for her, but I was pinned in place before the whole thing sank and I came up in the water. That was the last I saw of her. She never made it to the life raft.”

Quentin’s throat throbbed with the lump that had risen into it. His baby, her last moments… he met Laurel’s eyes and saw they were just as watery as his.

“But couldn’t she have washed up somewhere else? A different island,” Dinah insisted. She reached into her papers and folders and pulled out the picture of the girl in the baseball cap. “Doesn’t this look just like her?”

“It— there’s a resemblance,” Queen admitted. “But I know for a fact that Sara was not wearing a Rockets hat when she entered the water. I’m not sure she even had it on board.”

“No, she did, she packed it—” Dinah said before cutting herself off, her eyes going wide.

Quentin stilled just as Laurel and Queen did. “You saw her pack?” He asked, his voice just barely above a whisper.

“I- I came home early that day,” Dinah answered. “And I saw her. I saw her put the hat in her bag.”

“You knew?” Laurel demanded. “You knew Sara was going on the _Gambit_?” Beside her, Queen looked as genuinely shocked by the revelation as the rest of them.

“I told her not to-- I told her not to do this, not to you, Laurel,” Dinah said, half-rising from her chair. “But she said she was in love and she had to follow her heart, even if nobody else thought it was right. Just like I told her... Just like I told her I once did. So... I let her go. I killed her.” A choked sob left her. “I killed my daughter.”

Quentin reached across and took one of her hands, but if anything, it seemed to make her sob all the harder.

“I’m so sorry, Quentin. I killed our baby!”

He couldn’t seem to find the strength to stand and go to her, and what floored him more than anything was watching Laurel stagger, and then reach for Queen’s shoulder to steady herself as her tears spilled over. And Queen responded, pulling Laurel into a hug. The last man that should be here for this, that should be comforting Quentin’s daughter, and yet there he was. Quentin’s chair scraped back and hit the wall with a bang.

“I think you should go.”

The two of them froze, Laurel’s head turning back and forth between them as Queen slowly let his arms drop. “I understand, Detective. I’m sorry, for… for everything.” He slowly withdrew, turning for the door. Yet Laurel was right on his heels.

“Where do you think you’re going, young lady?” Quentin said.

She looked back at him over her shoulder. “Seriously? I’m going with the person who’s been honest with me since he came back into my life and has actually apologized. Call it following my heart.”

“Laurel—”

“I’m sorry, dad, but I can’t do this right now. I can’t hold yours and moms hands and tell you it’s okay. That was _supposed_ to be your job.” She marched past Queen out of the apartment, who for his part, avoided Quentin’s eyes but left to join her.

Dinah’s cries seemed to have been shocked out of her in the wake of Laurel’s rebuke, for she stared after their daughter with wide eyes. “She- she’s changed,” his ex-wife remarked in quiet astonishment.

“They both have,” Quentin couldn’t deny. He had a feeling he knew just why Laurel’s relationship had ended with Merlyn, too. And he could only wonder just where her heart was going to lead her.


End file.
